THE SON OF MELANCHOLY
'But this?' One instant lids her scrutiny veiled;
Her wan cheek paled.
'This child?' I asked. 'Its picture brings to mind
Remembrance faint and far, past thought to find,
And yet by time unstaled.'
Smiling, aloof, she turned her narrow head,
'Make thou my face thy glass,' she cried and said.
'What would'st thou see therein—thine own, or mine?
O foolish one, what wonder thou did'st pine?
Long thou hast loved me; yet hast absent been.
See now: Dark night hath pressed an entrance in.
Jealous! thou dear? Nay, come; by taper's beam
Share thou this pictured Joy with me, though
nought but a dream.'
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